


A Simple Innocuous Word

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Share a Body Simultaneously, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Triggers, Two Minds One Body, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: It would be silly to think that he’d escape this totally unscathed. Some scars are more visible than others, of course. Hinata’s got a jagged line crawling around his skull to show for it, a pair of mismatched eyes, and only one body to share with two consciences. That’s not all, apparently.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 5
Kudos: 309





	A Simple Innocuous Word

**Author's Note:**

> i be like: has a trigger word thats both so commonplace and rare on the internet that every time i see it, it takes me by surprise, so i play russian roulette every day i log on and also never ask anyone to trigger tag for me because i get embarrassed.  
> anyway. i vent. dont ask me abt this one

The first time it happens, they’re both caught off guard. 

It would be silly to think that he’d escape this totally unscathed- despair had sunk its crooked claws in hard. Left marks. Left scars. Some are more visible than others, of course. 

Hinata’s got a jagged line crawling around his skull to show for it, a pair of mismatched eyes, and only one body to share with two consciences. That’s not all, apparently. That could never be enough, could never come close to a proper punishment for all the pain and chaos that he’s caused in a lifetime that feels so far away now. 

He’s scrolling idly on his laptop, for what, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t even remember. 

Funny how something so small, so innocuous as a simple word can send him reeling. 

Hinata doesn’t even remember moving from there to here but suddenly he’s curled up on the hardwood floor of his cabin, cheek pressed against the wood grain as hot, stinging tears roll down his cheeks, gasping air in as though he’s suffocating. He has to be suffocating. That’s what it feels like. Struggling for air, body drenched in sweat as his hands shake, tugging at his hair and slamming uselessly against his temples in order to chase the images away.

Yeah. He’s definitely not unscathed. 

For how long it goes on, he can’t really say. Shakes and sweats and cries and cries and cries. Cries himself out until he’s left empty and he starts to shiver, swallows thickly and heaves himself up into a sitting position, shirt sticking to the skin between his shoulder blades, hair plastered to his forehead. 

_  
What was that?_

  
He coughs, clearing his throat but he doesn’t even trust his voice enough to test it. 

**  
You need a shower.**

_  
Yeah. I do._

  
Hinata doesn’t even realize he can’t feel the warm shower spray, too far away to register the droplets cascading down his back as he stares blankly at the tiles on the wall, replaying the incident over in his head. It had been so sudden. A tidal wave of anguish washing over him but now he feels nothing. Nothing as the world slips out from under him. 

He’s tired.

Kamukura will deal with the headache that comes tomorrow. Takes some painkillers when he wakes and busies himself with frivolous tasks- changes the sheets, dusts, takes out the trash- in order to keep them occupied, but he resolutely avoids interacting with anyone else. Nothing to stress Hinata out any further, even when he’s tucked into the smallest recesses of the subconscious like this. 

He can stay there until he’s ready. And the next time Hinata wakes up, they go on without another word about it. For as long as they can, anyway. 

A simple, innocuous word has a way of worming itself into conversations. Or maybe he’s just primed to hear something that will send him so readily into a spiral. 

They’re all at breakfast, piling food onto their plates, everyone else’s chatter tuned out like radio static behind him as he’s trying to figure out the best way to carry everything that he wants, when one word manages to stand out above all the rest, reaching his ears. 

Hinata’s eyes widen. He feels the choked, burning sensation of tears welling up in his throat and eyes, a nauseating wave of heat rolling through him, before Kamukura tugs it all out from under him, sending him away. 

To anyone watching, it just looks like a pause. Kamukura blinks a few times, taking a deep breath, and goes back to balancing the food in his hands as he moves to sit down and eat. 

* * *

_You can’t do that!_

  
Hinata only decides to voice his displeasure after he’s been silent for a few hours. Every atom in him repressed, the muted panic waiting to burst at the seams. 

**  
You were going to have a breakdown again.**

_  
No, I wasn’t._

**  
Yes, you were.**

  
It is quite literally impossible to lie to himself. 

He’s going to have to face it, he knows, and now that they’re home, now that it’s been hours, when Hinata comes into himself again he only shakes. Only sweats. Only squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to rid his mind of the thoughts he’d spent so long building up the energy to desperately stave off. 

He needs another shower. 

* * *

  
The word becomes a bright red, glaring beacon. A solo lighthouse in the middle of a rocky sea, something his senses are so keenly tuned to, he can’t help but hear it or see it whenever it may turn up, no matter how sick it makes him. Stomach churning. Hot flashes of sweat, clammy palms. He doesn’t mean for it to happen. It just. Happens. 

He seeks solace in the refuge Kamukura will give him when he takes over, letting Hinata recover until he’s ready to deal with it at the forefront of his mind. It’s a bandaid solution, really, but it’s the only one they’ve got. Especially with the amount of times Kamukura has had to intervene in order to save face around his peers. 

**  
Would it not be easier to simply tell them to be mindful of what they say around you?**

_  
No. No. We’re not doing that._

  
Hinata has already decided. 

_  
They can’t know._

  
Them knowing involves him telling. An active act of confrontation, of showing a weakness he’s not ready to admit, even to himself, that he has. It’s stupid. So stupid. It’s just a word. Just a word. Why does it have so much power over him? 

**  
It will get easier.  
**

It does. 

It’s slow going, of course. But one day Hinata finds that when a wave of uneasiness rolls up his spine, and Kamukura threatens to take over, he can grit his teeth and bear it. Squares his jaw and forces himself forward, makes a wordless excuse of settling back into the pool where the others are tossing a beach ball back and forth, sinking under the water to chase the heat under his skin away. He doesn’t have to give this up. His friends’ laughter. Their lighthearted bickering over the blasting music, the stick of chlorine and sand to his skin. Komaeda’s gentle smile as he finds a place for himself in the pool too, right next to Hinata. He doesn’t have to let it win. It doesn’t have to win. 

Kamukura had said it would get easier. He never mentioned anything about it getting worse. 

  
The world hates him. Has a cruel sense of timing, really, so of course it happens when Komaeda is on top of him. 

For all that they’ve been through, their awkward and intimate fumbling is a welcomed sense of normalcy. Stolen glances, hands entwined under the table, thighs pressed together as they sat as close together as they could. Walks on the beach late at night, pointing at stars and ending with Komaeda offering apologies when Hinata steps on a sharp seashell and cuts his foot and Komaeda insists that it has everything to do with his bad luck. 

They both know it doesn’t, but Hinata lets him apologize anyway. 

  
Komaeda splays both hands against Hinata’s chest, gently pushing him downward, coaxing him to lay back further and _relax._ As if Hinata could relax when Komaeda is straddling him like this. 

They’re eager, so eager to make up for lost time. Both left in nothing but their boxers as Komaeda grinds down on him and Hinata breathes out a moan, his hips lifting up on their own accord. His head tilts back, encouraging Komaeda to pick up where he’d left off in his path of trailing kisses down the column of his neck. 

_  
Nothing could ruin this_ , Hinata thinks as every nerve in his body is alight with anticipation. _Nothing except-  
That. _

  
He freezes. And then he starts spiraling. 

It’s as though all that time of hard work is being washed down the drain right in front of him. Hinata swallows thickly, and he can feel himself starting to overheat. But it’s that far away feeling. The one like he’s only watching, and can’t move his body. 

It’s stupid. So stupid. Nobody else has done it to him this time. He’s ruined it all for himself. 

**  
You need to tell him to stop,** Kamukura warns as Komaeda’s hand makes its way downward. **Or I will do it for you.**

 _  
I can’t._ Hinata’s eyes are shut tight in a pathetic attempt not to cry. _I can’t move._

  
That must be enough for Kamukura, because suddenly Hinata isn’t there anymore. Isn’t really anywhere inside of his own mind. Curled up in disappointment and shame and regret as he hears everything muffled, as though he’s underwater. 

“Wait- Komaeda-“ Kamukura at least has the tact to pretend to be Hinata. He doesn’t think he could live with himself if Komaeda found out Hinata lost control of his consciousness right before he was about to go down on him. Kamukura is a good actor. Hinata trusts him with this, at least. 

“Yes?” Komaeda looks up and something must be written plain as day across their features because he stops in his movements immediately, withdrawing his hand. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” Kamukura assures him, a comforting hand reaching out to rest on his forearm, thumb rubbing softly against the skin. “No, you’re fine. I just… I don’t know if I-“

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, Hinata-kun. I understand.”

The words are nothing but encouraging and if Hinata was something more lucid than he is right now, he would be berating himself for being such a coward. For being useless. For not being able to move, or hear Komaeda speak kindly to him directly instead of from behind the veil of Kamukura. 

“Thanks,” Kamukura smiles. “Would it be okay if we just… rest?”

“Of course.” 

Komaeda lifts his weight off, shifting to lay on his side instead, sidling up to Kamukura with a small grin of his own. Something content. Something warm. An arm slings over his waist, the rhythm of steady breathing as they both focus on ridding their systems of the warmth and adrenaline, instead moving into something calm. Peaceful. Komaeda is tired by nature, so it doesn’t take much to make his eyes shut- Kamukura’s hand running tenderly through his hair. And once he is sure Komaeda has fallen asleep, his own eyes begin to shut as well. 

_Wait._

**  
What?**

_  
If you fall asleep, I’m going to be the one to wake up. And then I’m going to crash and burn and Komaeda is going to see it and I can’t-_

**  
You can’t hide behind me forever.**

_  
Please. Kamukura, I can’t do this yet._

Yet. 

Kamukura sleeps and Kamukura wakes and _yet_ becomes another day gone by. Yet becomes two days. Yet becomes three days. Yet becomes four days as Hinata digs his metaphorical heels into the ground every time Kamukura tries to relinquish control. 

It’s no use trying to hide how desperate he is to avoid it. 

But Kamukura has always been the stronger of the two. Pulling Hinata out into the light. Only to have to take over again a few hours later. A tug of war that lasts a week, until Hinata has been sent spiraling by a single innocuous word four times in one day. 

He’s tired. 

Kamukura lets him rest. 

* * *

“Hinata has been very quiet these past few days,” Komaeda comments offhandedly while sipping on his tea over lunch. Kamukura pauses. It’s true. Even from within his own mind, he hasn’t heard much. 

Swallowing the food in his mouth, Kamukura tilts his head, takes the sentence for what it is- a prompt for explanation. 

“He has not been feeling well.”

“Oh?” Komaeda’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “Is he sick? Wait, no- that wouldn’t make sense.” 

“In a way, I suppose,” Kamukura alludes. “Adjusting is difficult.” 

“Yes, it is!” Komaeda agrees. He has no idea of the weight of his words. “He’s lucky to have you to rely on.” 

“Yes,” Kamkura hums. _Yeah. I am._ “He is, isn’t he?” 


End file.
